


Drowning is Such Sweet Sorrow

by kimstheworst



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkwardness, Explicit Language, F/M, Female reader insert, Feminist Themes, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Monster of the Week, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-01-23 19:59:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1577645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimstheworst/pseuds/kimstheworst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader is a newbie hunter, kind of likes Dean and they go off on a Monster of the Week mission where she has to save him.</p><p>(Everything is T for Teens until Chapter 4)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Not breathing. Not breathing. Shit, shit, shit._ your thoughts race. Soaked and freezing to the core, your breaths come out in puffs of smoke. His do not. Your shaking hands go to his neck to feel for a pulse. Still there. Still alive, somehow. But for how much longer?

You pull his wet flannel open, sending the buttons flying over the cold wet sand. Starting in on chest compressions you mumble along in panicked breaths _“Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive, ah, ah, ah, ah…”_

Grasping his head, you tilt it back opening his mouth. You hesitate for a second. How many times had you thought of how those lips would feel against yours? _Not the time for this crap, Y/N._ you think plunging your mouth against his. _Damn, he tastes perfect. Shut up, shut up, shut up._ you argue with yourself, pushing several deep breaths into his lungs.

This goes on for two minutes, alternating between chest compressions and mouth to mouth. Still nothing. Unresponsive.

Dean Winchester is dead.


	2. Chapter 2

**_12 Hours Earlier_ **

“A grindylow? Really?” You were hovering over Sam who had been pouring over the books for the past three hours.

“It fits.  Creature lives in water.  Drags people to their doom.”  Sam explained.

 7 fishermen (the bucket-hat-khaki-vest-retirement-kind, not the “Perfect Storm” kind) had disappeared from a town in New Hampshire’s lakes region in the past week. Their boats found drifting aimlessly, hours later. Presumably they drowned accidentally, or so thought the normal authorities who would never suspect that something darker were responsible for the disappearances.

 “Yeah, but that’s Harry Potter crap.” you said.

“Everything comes from somewhere.”

“Ok,how do we kill it?” interjected Dean.

“Still working on that part.” said Sam still scanning the pages.

“How ‘bout we just stab it.  Cut off its head. That works for most things.”

you offered, simply.

“Okay, you’re new to this. So I’m going to go slow here. You can’t ever ‘just stab’ something.” Dean air quoted.

“Got something!” Sam exclaimed.

“What is it? Potion made from the bones of a chupacabra, talisman only found in 1683, virgin sacrifice?”  he said leaning down over Sam and his computer, but smirking at you.

“Fuck you, man.” you retorted.  Dean put his hands up in defense.

Sam sighed.  “It says here...you should just stab it.”

Dean struggled to keep a know-it-all look on his face. “Okay, but it’s like with a silver knife, or a stake or the Sword of freakin’ Gondor, right?”

“Nope, it just says anything will do.”

The look on Dean’s face was priceless and you couldn’t help, but let the smug satisfaction come across loud and clear on yours.

  
  


“I’m sure me and (Y/N) can handle just stabbing a monster, Sam.” Dean had just finished packing up his weapons and you and him were headed out the door.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked.  He was still knee deep in research about sealing the gates of hell and honestly didn’t want to take a break, but he knew he should ask.

“Yeah, it’s fine.  Plus, easy one like this? Will be a nice little training exercise for (Y/N).”

“It could be dangerous.” Sam warned you with a smile.

“Oh, Sammy, “Danger” is my middle name.” you said mussing his hair.  He batted away your hand and tucked his hair back behind his ears.  

“You’re an idiot.” Sam laughed already getting back to his work.

You doffed your imaginary hat in his direction.

 

The Impala purred along 95N, Zeppelin blaring from her radio at a level just under painful.  You and Dean rode along in silence, the pine trees whipping past your window.  You imagined an 8-bit video game sprite version of yourself running alongside the car, jumping over any obstacles it came across.  However, something had been gnawing at you since earlier.

 

“You know, I’m not a virgin.” you turn to Dean and say.

“What?” he replies, utterly confused as to what thread you must be picking up from earlier.

“Virgin sacrifice.  When you said virgin sacrifice earlier you were looking in my direction.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t insinuating anything.”

“You were insinuating everything.”

“Okay, whatever.” he shifted uncomfortably, wanting the conversation to be over.

“just...I’m not one ok.”   

“Okay.  I’m not one either.”

“Oh, really?” you say dripping in sarcasm.

 

Why was it so important to you that Dean know you weren’t a virgin?  Okay, obvious answer you liked him (how could you not, I mean look at him) and maybe you were a little insecure about your not too experienced past.    Or maybe you wanted him to know because you were never quite sure where you stood with him.  Did he hate you?  Did he like you?  Were you just a nuisance?  Did he think you were annoying?  Were you just too much you all the time?  Was it like getting run over by a mac truck of personality every time the two of you spoke?  Many were the questions.  Zero were the answers.

 

It was night by the time you reached the lake, the Impala rumbling to a stop by the side of the road.   You got out of the car and went around to meet Dean at the already popped trunk.  He handed you a machete and a flashlight, the kind made for boating that would float if dropped.  In water that is.  Not in air.  Being as the laws of gravity were still in full fucking effect and all that jazz.

 

“Maybe we should bed down somewhere, wait til morning.” you suggested.

It was a waning moon and the black was near pitch.  Add in the fact that you two would be out on the water and the whole idea of safety went right out the window.

“What are you afraid of the dark now?  We wait til morning someone else gets hurt. Plus, you and me, we don’t exactly look the leisure fishing part.  Could make a few civvies nervous.” he said strapping a machete to his leg.

 

You “borrowed” a small boat with an outboard motor from a nearby dock and sped out to the middle of the lake, Dean handling the motor, you, trying your best not to freeze to death in the cold night air.  Damn, even in June it was downright freezing on the water.

 

You got to the middle of the lake and Dean cut the motor.  The sudden silence gave way to the gentle lapping of water against the hull, and your own ragged shiver induced breathing.  Dean lit up his torch and shined it directly in your face.

 

“Gah!” you screamed trying to shield your now blinded eyes.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry.” Dean said quickly pointing his flashlight elsewhere.

“Hachi-maachi...watch where you point that thing, you’re libel to blind a girl.” you said, doing your best Mae West which came out way more Groucho Marx than you had intended in light of your shaking cold voice.

“You cold?”

“What could ever give you that idea?”

“You’re shaking the whole boat.”

“And lord knows it’s huge.”

“Here, take my jacket.” he said wiggling his arm out of a leather sleeve and handing you the coat.

“Thanks.” you said, honestly, a bit surprised.

 

You put it on and da-aammnn it was toasty super warm.  And man, did it smell good.  Like pheromoney, testosteroney, demon bloody and okay not demon bloody, but maybe..sandalwood? What does sandalwood even smell like?  Also, it smelled like maple syrup, which was probably indicative of a greater health problem.   It smelled like Dean.  It smelled nice.

 

After a few seconds Dean started shivering and blowing on his hands to keep warm.

 

“Okay, now I’m cold.” he confessed.

“Hold on, I’m comin.”  
You toddled over to his part of the boat.  The back of the boat.  (Aft?  Stern?  The boat term for the butt of the boat.)  You squished next to him in the butt, draping the jacket over both of your shoulders.  

 

He snuck a hand around waist, pulling you closer.  You stiffened at the sudden contact and the implication it might present.

“Relax, it’s for warmth I’m not copping a feel.”

“Whaattt I am the most relaxed a person can be.  I am like a ki of weed on 4/20 relaxed my friend. Sooooo relaxed.”

“Yeah, why is your eye twitching?”

“whaaaaaaaa….”

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed looking away toward the water.

“So, what do we do now?  Just wait for something to kill us?”

“Yeah I guess.”

“Think the light would attract them?  Like with catfish?”

“Couldn’t do any harm.”

You go to get your flashlight from the other side of the boat.  Before you can,

Dean is up and grabbing it for you.  “Sit, I got it.”

The boat wobbles violently under his movement, sending the flashlight sailing into the water.

“Son of a bitch.”

“It’s fine we still have yours.” you offered.

The flashlight, still lit, floated in the water about four feet away.

“I can reach it.” Dean said.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I got it.” he said agitated.  He got low in the boat and stretched his arm out towards the torch, bobbing inches from his hand.

 

“Almost got it.”  his fingers whispered against the handle pushing it further away.

 

He reached out further into the water, his torso now almost completely out of the vessel, the boat tilting under his imbalanced weight.  You shifted to the other side of the boat in an attempt to counter balance the craft.  His hands got closer to the flashlight as it drifted back towards him.  Closer.  Closer.   _Closer_.

 

And he snatched it, pulling himself back into the boat in one pull, rocking the dinghy violently from side to side.

 

Out of breath he said “Okay, not so ba-”

 

A massive creature burst out of the water and grabbed Dean right from the boat,sending the machete which had been strapped to his leg flying and pulling him right down into the murky waters.   

 

“Oh, crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap.” you said with, uh, let’s be honest, a modicum of panic.    

 

Dean somehow managed to hold onto his still lit flashlight, as the grindylow dragged him to his apparent doom.  The torch left a faint ball of light that you could just track heading closer to shore.  Then the light stopped moving away and floated up to the surface of the water.   _He let go_.   _Not much time._

 

Working quickly, you stripped off  your boots, jacket and pants. Despite the already low temperatures, you knew the skinny jeans weren’t going to help with your mobility once you hit the water.  With flashlight and machete clamped between your teeth, you flopped into the water as gracefully as a cracked out chihuahua.

 

“Fuckshitcockballsjesusfuck” you gasped as you were stung by the icy water, the knife popping from your mouth.  Luckily, you grabbed it just before it sank to the depths like so many Le Coeur de la Mer.  

 

You flapped your way over to Dean’s bobbing flashlight and haphazardly dove down into the water searching with your flashlight.  Opening your eyes against the freezing water you saw a monstrous figure like living seaweed holding an unconscious Dean down, attempting to cocoon the young gentleman in aquatic weeds.  

 

You darted toward the monster,  machete brandished and swiped at the creature’s head.  But it was too fast for you.  It ducked out of the way and knocked you across the face, sending your flashlight out of your hands for a moment, before you regained it.  

 

You searched around for a second.  The creature was nowhere to be seen.  

 

You set your sights back on an unconscious Dean and quickly set to cutting him loose from his underwater cocoon. Looking around you noticed a few middle aged men, sunk in similar fashion on the lake floor, some missing body parts and major portions of their heads.  The Grindylow were feeding on them.  

 

But those men were already dead and maybe you could still save Dean.  Maybe there was still time.  With one last slash of your blade you freed his body and struggled upwards.

 

With a loud gasp you broke through the surface of the water.  You shouldered his weight and sputtered towards shore.

 

Not even five feet later, Dean suddenly got much heavier.  The grindylow had a grip around his foot and was dragging its quarry back down, taking you with it.  Your head dipped below the water. Fight as you might, you couldn’t hold on to him much longer.  You were strong, but Dean’s dead weight and the monster dragging him down? No dice.  

 

So, you let Dean go.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

You let go of Dean, but just because it's what you needed to gain the upperhand. 

The grindylow startled backwards with the sudden lightness of his meal.  You seized the opportunity, your hand firmly planted around the hilt of the machete and with one fell swoop lopped the head off the monster, spilling green blood into the water around you.

You hauled Dean up onto the sand, beaching yourself next to him, trying to catch your breath before checking his pulse.   _Still beating._ But not breathing.  Definitely _not_ breathing.

  ~~You brushed your fingers gently along his hairline, unsticking the short wet strands from his face.  Leaning over him you sang.~~

~~What would I give~~

~~To live where you are?~~

~~What would I pay~~

~~To stay here beside you?~~

~~What would I do to see you~~

~~Smiling at me?~~

~~Where would we walk?~~

~~Where would we run?~~

~~If we could stay all day in the sun?~~

~~Just you and me~~

~~And I could be~~

~~Part of your world~~

~~I don't know when~~

~~I don't know how~~

~~But I know something's starting right now~~

~~Watch and you'll see~~

~~Some day I'll be~~

~~Part of your world~~

  
After several minutes of what pop culture had led you believe was CPR, Dean still wasn’t breathing.  He was dead.  Really and truly this time.  Taken down by a freak of the week.   _No, not like this.  Not like this._ you rationed away, your head in your hands, back turned to your beautiful friend, almost lover, maybe, if you’d had your druthers.   

Just then you heard sputtering, coughing.  Signs of life.   _Alive!_ He was alive.  Not dead.  Alive.  

You scrambled to Dean and rolled his body to his side so he could better cough up the water.  He took a few ragged, deep breaths.

He looked over his shoulder at you, a little half smile forming and patted the hand you had on his arm.  “Thanks” he said simply as if you had just offered him a piece of gum.

He  stumbled to his feet, before just heading to the car, confident that you would just follow.

But you didn’t follow.  You were frozen to the spot, incredulous.

_Thanks?_ You saved his life and all you got was a _Thanks?_

Catching up to him you started in “Hey, no, no, no.  No pat on the shoulder, thanks for playing.  I just saved your life.”

“I’ve died or almost died over 100 times, get in line.”

He pushed past you.

You rush up to him blocking his way.  “I. Just. Saved. Your. Life.”  You emphasized each word with a poke to his chest.

“And?”

“And now” you said straightening yourself up “you are going to take me out for dinner.  At a NICE restaurant.  No cheeseburgers.”

“I am?” he said more than a little amused.

“Yes.  And, you’re going to wear one of your fed suits or a sweater that accentuates your awesome green eyes or maybe just your white button up because I like you in your white collared button down….AND with your _consent_ afterwards...we are to going to have the sex.”

Dean was now laughing, a wide smile forming across his face. “Okay, then.”

“Okay” you agreed “Now, let’s get in the car because it’s freezing and I just realized I’m not wearing any pants.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will potentially continue on and we'll get to see that date and maybe this will turn into well mannered smut.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and the reader go on the promised date.
> 
> It is sometimes romantic. And a little smutty.

Dean blasted the heat to counteract the borderline hypothermia creeping into your bodies, while you rung your sopping wet hair out the window.

Your eyes were stinging as the lake water got in under your contacts. Thank god you left your bag in the car.

Flipping down the vanity mirror you began to fish your lenses out.

“Ugh. God! What are you doing?” Dean commented.

“Taking out my contacts. Eyes are burning since I had to save your sorry ass.”

“Hey, you just asked to have ‘the sex’ with this sorry ass, so I wouldn’t complain.”

You finished up with your contacts tucking them away in their case, before slipping on a pair of glasses, which, okay if you were being honest with yourself edged towards geeky.

Dean had never seen you with your glasses on and did a double take the next time he glanced over. “Jenkies, Velma.”

“Not good?” you asked.

“No, it’s good. You look different.” he said sincerely.

“Different good. Different bad.”

“Neither, just different.” A sly smile came across Dean’s face as his attention strayed back to the road.

“Oh god, you’re thinking about sexy librarians, aren’t you?” you asked.

“Sorry, Miss, I don’t have any cash on me, guess I’m going to have to pay for those overdue books, in some other way.” he said. “

Oh, god.” you laughed putting your head in your hands.

 

A few days later Dean waited by the staircase at the bunker dressed in his finest fed suit with the white shirt, just like you had asked.

He tapped his foot and checked his watch impatiently.

“Y/N, come on! We have reservations!” Dean called.

“You made reservations?” Sam asked Dean as he crossed into the kitchen.

“I…she saved my life, okay?” Dean explained, mildly embarrassed.

Sam froze where he stood, mouth agape, staring past Dean.

“Are you having a stroke?” Dean asked before looking over his shoulder at what Sam had spied.

He did a double take as his eyes raked up your body from toe to top.

You chose to wear what you thought of as your come-fuck-me-pumps (kitten heels!) paired with that long neglected sparkly long sleeved LBD you had bought after seeing Gina Carano in Haywire. (God, you loved that scene with her and Michael Assbender...errr Fassbender.)

“I’m ready.” you said mildly annoyed.

Dean snapped out of it, remembering he was supposed to be annoyed. “Geez took ya long enough.”

“A lady always makes an entrance.” you teased him.

“A lady can get her ass in the car, right now.” Dean countered.

“Ever the gentleman.” you mocked him as he ushered you out the door.

“Have fun you two crazy kids.” Sam called after you.

 

You and Dean sat across from each other in the fancy restaurant whose name you couldn’t pronounce. There weren’t even prices on the menu. (You always thought of ordering things off a priceless menu as a precarious game of “price is right”, rather than the relaxed upper crust experience it was meant to be. Regardless, it was on Dean or, rather, whatever poor schmuck’s credit card he was using that week. So, for once in your life you ordered with abandon.) That’s the level of fancy this place was.

You made it through your entree having ordered duck a l’orange (because that’s what you had to order in a place like this, right?) while Dean had the….something that looked red and meaty. He claimed it was “Slimy, yet satisfying.”

You were also coming to the end of your second glass of their cheapest wine, because despite the fact you weren’t responsible for the cost, you honestly couldn’t tell the difference.

“Ok, what’s your favorite disguise that you ever wore?” you asked.

“Oh geez, disguises. We have not bothered with that for a long time.” Dean commented running a hand across the back of his neck. “You know, there was this one time where Sam and I, we traveled back to the Old West.”

“What?” you asked, utterly flabbergasted.

“Time travel. Sometimes it happens.”

“Oh bullshit. Fuck you, man.”

“It’s true. Angels they can do that crap.”

“Okay, I don’t believe you, but go on.”

“Okay, so going back to the Old West. I figure, hey if we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do this right. I google, I find a cowboy store. I go out. I buy all this cool stuff for me and Sam. I wear the stuff. He refuses. He’s no fun. I look amazing.”

“I bet you did. What were you wearing?”

“Are you familiar with a serape?”

“You were wearing a blanket?”

Dean’s face fell and he sighed. “Everyone’s a critic.”

“No, I’m sure you were adorable. Just the most adorable little cowboy ever.”

“I was going for fearsome. Badass.”

“Oh. So yeah, not ideal.”

“No, not ideal.”

Just then your waitress returned with your very elaborate looking desert.

“Wow.” Dean commented.

“I know right? This shit is fucking architectural. I hope you don’t think I’m sharing because this is all going inside me. I’m taking it all.” you said with a wink.

“I don’t know it’s pretty big, you think you can accommodate something that size?” Dean countered a knowing grin on his face.

“I can stretch.” you flirted.

“Good to know.” he winked.

This was good. This was fun. This was easy. Flirting with Dean. The words. The innuendo. It came easy for you. But in the back of your mind you knew that every word you said, you’d have to back up later. And that, in stark contrast to your outside brazenness, made you nervous.

It wasn’t the sex that made you nervous, although, you were not anywhere near terribly experienced. It was the fact that this was Dean fucking Winchester. And you knew he could have sex with just anyone. And you didn’t want to be just anyone.

But instead of saying all this, you just ate your desert (Yes, the whole thing.) while Dean looked on, amazed you could pack all that away.

He paid the check.  You piled into the Impala.  And drove off, but not toward the bunker.

“Where are we going? Is this the part where you turn evil and murder me?” you half joked.

“Yes, my grand plan is to spend way too much on a fancy dinner and then murder you.” he volleyed back.

“Hey, man. I don’t know your kinks.”

 

Dean drove on. Towns gave way to country fields. Dean pulled off to the side of the road.

“Here?” you questioned.

“Yep, here.” he said getting out of the car and going to the trunk.

You followed suit, getting out of the car.

“Why here?” you asked.

Dean shouldered his jacket off and put it in the trunk before pulling a blanket out.

“Because.” he said gesturing towards the sky.

And that’s when you understood. Above you swirled the cosmos in the night sky. More stars then you’d ever seen in your whole life.

“Come on.” he said gently taking your hand and leading you out into the field.

When you two got a suitable distance from the road, Dean laid the blanket down and pulled you down to the ground with him. You nestled into his side as you both lay on your backs looking up at the night sky.

“So, know any constellations?” you asked.

“Orion?” Dean said.

“The hunter. That’s fitting.”

“It’s the easiest. You just look for the three stars in a line, see?” he said pointing up “That forms his belt and those are his shoulders, legs and he’s shooting a bow and arrow sort of.”

And sure enough, you saw it-Orion.

As you stared up, spots that seemed like inky void kept revealing more and more stars.

“God, this is beautiful. Thank you for this.” you said.

“My pleasure. It’s nice to do something nice for a change.” he said in a way you could have sworn was sincere.

He looked over at you and tilted your face up to his. Your lips met, gently at first, with nerves and trepidation on your end, but pretty soon that melted away as he kissed you deeper and you reciprocated in kind. His mouth felt wonderful against yours. Wonderful and right.

Your hands went to his chest feeling the thin layer of give covering the firmness of his muscles.

His hands slipped around your waist as he rolled on top of you. He kissed under your jaw and down your neck to your exposed shoulder, tugging gently at the neckline of your dress.

You could’ve easily lost yourself like this. Lord knows you wish you could have.

“Wait. Wait. Stop.” you said.

“You okay?” he looked at you with concern, momentarily pausing the onslaught of sweet of kisses.

“I was kidding. Ok. About the sex thing.”

He rolled off you. “You were kidding?” he asked with a raised brow.

“Yeah.”

“You can change your mind about the sex, Y/N. But don’t lie. You were not kidding. I know kidding. You were direct and to the point.” he argued.

You sat up and took a deep breath. “Dean, if I’m gonna sleep with someone, I want it to be with someone who’s going to be there in the morning.”

“I’m there literally every morning.” he countered.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Well, what do you mean, Y/N? I’m not really in the mood for your riddles.”

“I want it to be with someone who’s as into it as I am.”

“Okay, I am obviously into it, okay? ...Unless...it’s not the it you’re talking about...is it? It’s the you?” he said putting it all together.

“Yeah. Let’s just go home.” you said turning away and stamping back through the field without waiting to see if he was following.

 

You spent the drive home looking out your window trying to ignore the tension in the car, cursing yourself for ever opening your mouth to say anything for any reason ever.

 

Back home at the bunker, you blazed passed Sam as he was getting out of the bathroom.

“How was it?” he asked after you, momentarily oblivious to social cues.

You went straight to your room and slammed the door behind you.

Dean came rushing down the bunker stairs next.

“What the hell happened?” asked Sam.

“I’m stupid, that’s what happened.” Dean explained without stopping.

“Oh, the usual.” Sam said to himself.

 

 

Dean knocked on your door, roughly.

“Y/N! Come on! Open up.” he yelled.

“Go away.” you replied.

“No. Okay. Just. You don’t have to open the door, just listen for a second.” he pleaded.

“Fine.” you conceded.

“I know you’re angry at me.” he offered.

“I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at myself.”

“Well, I’m angry at me then.” he continued “I thought this would be enough to show you, without me telling you, so I wouldn’t have to say the words. And that was really stupid of me. Because the truth is, Y/N, I like you. I really like you.”

You opened the door a crack and looked up into his eyes.

“I like you too.” you told him.

“Yeah, I kind of got that feeling.” he said with a smirk.

“Don’t be an ass.” you said playfully, poking him hard in the chest.

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you close, trapping your lips in a delicate kiss. His hands wound into your hair as you both stumbled backwards into your room. He kicked the door shut behind you and pushed you up against the wall. Your lips worked together in a fury. His hands groped down your back and found the zipper on your dress. He kissed down your neck and shoulder, slipping the dress down your body until it pooled on the floor around your feet.

“God, you look so fucking gorgeous tonight.” he breathed into your neck kissing just behind your ear.

“Yeah and your hair game's so on point.” you offered as your way of reciprocating his compliment.

He pulled away for a second, slightly confused.

“You look hot.” you clarified for him.

He wrapped his arms around your bare torso, sucking and kissing your neck deeply.

“Shirt off” you told him pushing him off you with a hard shove.

He ripped his shirt off his body as fast he could, but his haste caused his hand to get caught in one of his sleeves. He flapped his arm helplessly, like a bird with a broken wing.

You barely stifled a laugh.

“It’s not funny.” he whined with a frustrated grin on his face.

You helped him get the shirt off his arm and pushed him backwards onto your bed. Where you attacked his neck, sucking and nibbling a path down to chest, where you kissed his anti-possession tattoo. God, how long had you been wanting to do that. Needless to say, the whole about-to-bang-Dean-Winchester thing was fucking awesome.

“You need less pants on.” you said undoing his belt and whipping his pants off as his shoes flopped off his feet. He lifted himself up on his elbows and pulled you in for a kiss as you straddled him once again.

Dean’s mouth fell open in awe as you gave him a bit of a show in unhooking and slipping off your bra.

He gripped your hips tight and wiggled both of your bodies up to the top of the bed so he could rest his head on a pillow.

You bent down and planted a deep kiss on his lips, your tongues exploring each other mouths, one of your hands resting on his chest the other snaked around the back of his neck.

You could feel him harden through his underwear, against your crotch. He flipped you over so he was hovering on top of you and wound his way down your body with soft kisses, until he got to the edge of your underwear.

With a quick wink up at you, he pulled your underwear down your legs.

You couldn’t help, but laugh when he slingshotted them across the room and they landed on your Batgirl bust. Dean cracked up too, his body convulsing as he kneeled with your legs resting up on his hips.

Wiping the tears away he said “This will be a lot easier if we stop laughing.”

“Ok. Ok. I’m done. Continue, ummm...what you were about to do.” you said.

“Oh, I will.” and with a confident smirk, he blazed a trail, kissing up your leg toward your core.

He licked a stripe up your folds, gently at first, then gained momentum as he stroked your clit with his calloused fingertips, and delved his fingers into your opening. It was a slow intense build, one you especially admired given the raging-ness of his hard on. You started breathing heavy and moving your hips in time with his mouth and fingers. With his free hand he held you down. Your body shuddered as your orgasm mounted. Dean helped you ride your climax out, gently rubbing your clit.

“God, you taste so good. I mean, still like a vagina, but a good vagina.” he said with a shit eating grin. (Editor’s Note: More like a pussy eating grin! what-what! up top! high-five.)

He wiped his face against your inner thigh and slipped out of his underwear kicking them down to the floor. He crawled up your body, stopping at your breasts.

“Well, hello ladies...” He said planting a quick kiss on both of them.

“Shut up.” you laughed at him, then grabbing his face “Get up here.”

You pulled his face to yours and kissed him deeply, ignoring the taste of yourself in his mouth.

“You ready?” he asked you.

“Yeah, hold on.” you said groping toward your bedside table, and fished a condom out of the drawer. “Well, you’re certainly prepared.” he said.

“I’m a regular boyscott.” you said reaching down and rolling the condom down his considerable length. “Mmm..thanks.” he said, his face smarting for a second as the condom settled around the base of his shaft.

He reached down and lined himself up with you, at first pushing just the tip in, then upon your nod of approval, pushing the rest of the way in.

He let you adjust for a second then began slowly pumping in and out of you, setting a slow but steady pace.

He kissed and sucked at the crook of your neck.

You drew your legs up, adjusting the angle in which he thrust into you. The tension built in your abdomen. You trailed your hands down his back and came to rest on his tush. You gave his ass a little squeeze and he moaned loudly into your neck.

_Mental note: Dean Winchester likes it when you grab his ass._ you thought.

His thrusts quickened, hitting your g-spot with every stroke. You hooked your ankles around his back to deepen his accelerating efforts. The tension in your abdomen mounted, about to go off.

“Dean, I’m so close.” you pleaded.

“I know. Me too.” after a few more pumps he said “Okay, you ready?”

“Oh, god yes.” you moaned.

“Go.” he said.

You let go and both of you climaxed at the same time. Waves of pleasure rolled over your body as you took in his adorable “O” face all contorted and pink, really bringing out the freckles.

His freckles were like the stars. The more you looked, the more appeared against the void of his skin.

He let himself down gently on top of you. You stroked his sweaty hair away his face as he panted and tried to regain himself. You even planted a kiss on his forehead.

His arms curled around under you and he just held you for a moment, not saying anything. You could have lived forever in that moment, post bliss. With him on top of you. The delicious weight of Dean Winchester on top of you. Holding onto you so tightly, like he was worried you’d evaporate before his very eyes.

After about a minute he rolled off you, disposed of the condom and rolled back towards, cupping your face in his hands and brushing a sweaty piece of hair off your face and behind your ear. He kissed you sweetly and and said “So, you ready for a sleepover? Because there is no way I am not waking up next to you tomorrow.”

You smiled and laced your fingers with his. “Oh yeah, I stole my sister’s copy of ‘Cruel Intentions’ even though our parents won’t let us see it.” you rambled “And we can do facials. And around midnight we can try light-as-a-feather-stiff-as-a-board…” he caught your lips in a deep kiss and settled your head against his chest.

“Good night, Dean.” you said.

“Good night, y/n.” he replied.

 

And in each other's arms you drifted off to a deep slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure what the overlap of Louie and Supernatural fans is, but I wrote my stargazing scene before I saw that episode of Louie. For once, this is not a reference or something I boosted.

**Author's Note:**

> Update 6/30/2014 - I just remembered that this whole thing was inspired by "Born Under a Bad Sign" when Jo finds Dean half drowned, the scene or so after that and how if circumstances had been drastically different she should have made him take her out on a date.


End file.
